Shut Up, Sherlock!
by SherlockedSherlockian
Summary: John is upset and is surprised by how caring Sherlock can be. Just close friendship - unless you have your goggles on. Disclaimer: I do not own any characters but the plot is my own. Reviews would be amazing, as this is my first post!


**Shut Up, Sherlock!**

Sherlock walked into the room and sat down by John. "How did it go?" he asked shortly. "What?" John asked, though he already knew the answer – and Sherlock knew that he knew. "Oh, come now, John! You never wear that cologne unless you have a date with Sarah, and then there's your – " "Okay, okay, Sherlock. Just shut up." John sighed. Even for him, he sounded depressed. "You're tired." Sherlock said flatly, but John sensed a tinge of kindness beneath the usual cold tone. "Yeah. Good deduction." John sighed. Sherlock pulled a face, and John immediately felt guilty for his harsh tone. "Sorry, Sherlock, I'm just not feeling myself. Maybe I should go to bed and stop being a wet blanket." he rose, frowning as a sharp pain shot through his leg.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Want a cup of tea before you go? Might make you feel better." without waiting for a reply, he leapt up from the sofa and began making his way to the kitchen. John stared after him, surprised. Was Sherlock actually being _caring_? He'd never been like this before – but then again, John hadn't exactly been this upset before, and even if he'd come close he hadn't really shown it in a way that Sherlock had noticed.

Several moments later, Sherlock re-entered the room with two steaming cups of tea, one in each hand. One of these he gave to John. The doctor took it, giving the cup quizzical look and muttering an uncertain, "Thanks, Sherlock." The consulting detective looked a little hurt as he dropped an, "It's not poisoned, you know," as casually as he could manage. John felt like kicking himself, and suddenly the sadness he'd been trying to suppress welled up like a huge knot within him. He felt a sob coming on, but he hurriedly turned it into a cough. "John," Sherlock said, sounding worried, "are you okay? I mean _really _okay?" "Why?" John frowned. The genuine concern in his friend's voice made him both confused and relieved simultaneously. It was nice to have someone who understood. Especially if that someone was Sherlock Holmes.

"I may not be a doctor, but I've never heard someone cough like _that _before." he smiled briefly. "So, are you okay?" "Um, the date…it didn't exactly work as planned. I stuffed up – I don't think she loves me anymore." He waited, expecting Sherlock to say something characteristic like, "Oh, so she dumped you," or, "Obviously!" but, to John's even greater surprise, he did nothing of the kind. Instead, he put down his tea and came over to sit next to him on the sofa.

"Maybe breaking up with her wasn't so bad." he said softly, "I mean, she wasn't exactly perfect for you. She wasn't all that patient, was she?" "What do you mean, Sherlock? You're my best friend, and you can't even be patient until I've finished having breakfast before you drag me halfway through London!" "True, but you've stuffed up heaps of times," the detective mused, "like just now, when you were suspicious of the tea I made you. But _I_ still love you. By the way, you're anything but a wet blanket."

John stared at his friend in disbelief. For the first time, the fact that he had known somewhere in the back of his head – the one he had known but never really thought about – hit him hard. It was the fact that Sherlock actually _cared_. Before he could stop himself, he broke down into tears. Sherlock looked completely distressed. "John! John, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to – was it something I said? I really didn't mean to upset – "

"Come here." his friend interrupted, pulling Sherlock into a tight embrace. Sherlock was slightly taken aback, but said nothing as the ex-army doctor wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his head into his chest. "You're a downright twit, Sherlock," he smiled, despite his tears, "but you know I love you too, don't you?" he snuggled closer against the other man's chest, feeling safer and better than he ever remembered feeling in his life. He looked up into his flatmate's beautiful, piercing bluey-grey eyes. Sherlock smiled back. _I'll take that as a yes, _John thought to himself.

"Feeling better?" the consultant asked, withdrawing after a moment. John took a deep breath and nodded slowly, "Much better. Thank you, Sherlock. You're the best friend anyone could have." Sherlock smirked, "Most people would beg to differ, I imagine." "Yeah," John confessed, "but I'm not most people. I'm the luckiest person in the world. I'm the luckiest person because I have_ you_. Whether we're about to be blown up or I'm having bad dreams or family problems – even if my girlfriend's just dumped me – I still have you. You're not just someone I admire. You're not even just a shoulder to cry on. You're my strength, the best part of me…you're the greatest _friend _I've ever had or will ever have, and since you deal with facts, I'll add that even though I may not be as clever as you, I know _that_ for a _fact_, Sherlock."

While saying all this, John had been looking at the floor. Now, anxious as to what Sherlock's reaction would be, he looked up at his best friend once more. Sherlock's eyes were glistening with _tears_ – tears of _emotion_. "You know that the same goes for you," he murmured gently, "I can be a real pain sometimes, I know, but you're the only person who puts up with me. You never get angry, or fed up – " "Sherlock! How can I be angry with you, let alone fed up? Sure, you _can_ be a real pain sometimes, but come on – you made me who I am. You were my missing piece. Now I'm complete." he smiled, and laughed as he felt Sherlock's arms around him again. "By the way," he grinned, "you give very nice hugs for a sociopath." The mischievous man grinned, "Better than Sarah?" John rolled his eyes, fighting a chuckle, "Shut up, Sherlock."


End file.
